Elements of Emotion: Fear
by RaceTheWind10
Summary: Emily/JJ FEMSLASH. This is part character study, part relationship story. JJ muses on the elemental nature of her emotions for Emily and how they have changed. 4 Parts to the whole story
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Elements of Emotion: Fear **

**Pairing: Emily/JJ Criminal Minds**

**Rating: G**

**Spoilers: Not intentionally. **

**Summary: The first part of a series. JJ ponders on the elemental nature of her emotions for Emily**

**Warning: My muse, aka "Her Royal Highness the Queen of Exposition," ran rather amok with this, so as usual, it began as one thing, and ended as another entirely.**

**Thank You: To Fewthistle, who inspired and cajoled the muse. This series exists largely because of her. **

**Apologies: Unbeta'd. Thus any errors or abuses of the English language are mine alone. **

* * *

A young Jennifer Jareau had learned - long ago in one of those lessons that doesn't appear particularly noteworthy at first glace but comes back unbidden at the oddest of times in one's life - that the philosophers of old believed everything in the world was made from four elements: earth, air, fire and water, with a fifth element, idea, composing those things not physical. It was the combinations of these elements that gave each thing, living or not, its form. According to the teacher, these elements were believed to be what made the whole of the natural world; people, animals "and everything."

JJ could remember little more than that single fact. She remembered that the class had spent some time discussing the combinations of certain elements and what they created, but mostly she remembered a sense of frustration at the concept of 'idea.' Even to her young mind, it had seemed such an inadequate label for the myriad of complex, shifting and often turbulent emotions that created the landscape of the human psyche. The small blonde sitting in the classroom with a tiny frown marring her porcelain features however, had no such words to describe why she thought the ancient philosophers were wrong, she just knew there was more to 'emotions and stuff' than 'ideas.'

In the way of young children with mildly troubling ideas however, JJ eventually pushed it to the back of her mind, where it lingered forgotten and buried, but not eradicated. Like a message bottle, it bobbed calmly on the outer seas of her memory, washing onto her awareness at odd times, swept by the currents of her unconscious to which the dictates and directions of logic are unknown.

It was not as if the blonde woman intended to put effort into creating her own answer to those ancient philosophers, but somewhere along the way - between college and her current case load, between late nights studying case files and later nights staring at the ceiling as her brain refused to let her sleep - JJ formed her own ideas about the elements that made up emotion and action: the foundation of human hearts and souls.

They had been simple at first: love, hate, anger and happiness. As time wore on, and JJ grew up however, she found flaw with these conceptualizations. College, the Academy, her work at the Bureau and finally, her work with the BAU all acted as catalysts, transforming the way she viewed the world. Each experience, each person and eventually, each case became pieces in the mosaic of her understanding, leading her ultimately to the classification of four of her own "elements."

**Fear **

Jennifer Jareau firmly believed that Roosevelt had been full of crap. There was a lot more out there to fear, than Fear itself. People spent their entire lives afraid of one thing or another, and committed terrible acts because of it. So much of the grief and pain the blonde agent saw every day could be attributed - at least in part - to fear. The fear of failure, the fear of being alone, the fear of loss and pain and humiliation, the fear of others, the fear of one's self; these were the things that dug at people. Sometimes stealthy, sometimes screaming, they pushed and whispered and undermined, until sometimes, inside some people, _something_ gave way. The person may have destroyed themselves or others by the time the team got there, but the fear itself remained; its cruel hand displayed for all to see; its language written in crimson splatters and reflected in the eternal clouds of lifeless eyes.

And yet, fear's power was not limited to destruction. Fear was one of the oldest of all instincts; it told humanity's ancestors to run away and survive for one more day. It honed senses and kept reaction times quick. Fear could be a powerful ally if a person was strong enough to use it and not be overcome by it.

Despite her job, JJ didn't fear injury or death. At least, she didn't fear them any more than what was dictated by the natural desire of a rational being to avoid such things. She accepted them as the price she might one day have to pay and considered it small in comparison to the reward of saving lives. No, the form of JJ's fear was more subtle. It wasn't the jangling, adrenaline laced shock of panic, or the anger colored vice of terror. It didn't haunt her nightmares or shadow her smile. It was amorphous. Like the briefest touch of a cold breeze it was present but always _just _beyond her grasp. The blonde had known this fear almost all her life - even as a young woman - though she hadn't understood it at the time. Like a malicious rumor whispered in spite, it had lingered at the back of her mind, pushed away and forgotten at times, but never disappearing completely. Because what JJ feared most was being silenced. She feared being nothing – simply content to watch the world go by outside her window as the rut of her life grew ever deeper. She feared being taken for granted and dismissed, servant to other's conceptions and visions of her until who _she _was – that fragile, tentative sense of self and place that she had built - vanished beneath the perceptions and desires of those around her.

JJ couldn't remember exactly when this fear had first whispered to her. It had just always been there and it had always been different than the simple fears of the forest, or of Uncle Bobby's drunken temper. She had been raised in a place where excellence was frowned on, seen as 'showing off,' and the desire to fit in was almost a physical constraint. As a young woman growing up, JJ had looked around - at her parents, at her friends, at the cracked and faded dreams and colorless lives - and she had known fear.

Her one hope had been sports. It was ok to be good at them, and when the blonde had used her scholarship to go to university and get the hell out of her home town, it was too late for anyone to say anything about it. Her parents had supported her in the sort of vague, tentative way of people who can't think of a reason to actively oppose something, but have no context for understanding it. To this day, when JJ visited the place she had been raised, she felt out of place: wrong, like she was trying to wear clothes that didn't fit, and it made her very skin feel tight and confining. It was as if the people the agent had known as a child had no ability to understand who she had become as an adult, and so they tried to force her into a box with a label on it – something they could relate to, neat and tidy – except that the box was too small, and something in her screamed in outrage at the imprisonment. All the tiny pointed questions and the knowing glances, the voices oh so cleverly snide, the hints and innuendoes, they lashed at her like silent, hidden knives, cutting her, until the very thought of spending too much time at home left her flinching like a headshy horse; unable after years of harsh treatment to react any other way.

A different person might have let this fear take hold; might have lent it power with their doubts and failures and the words of others. JJ did no such thing. Instead it provided a sharp goad that she took, threw into the fire of her will and tempered, hardening it until that fear became a tool; a weapon. Razor sharp, it lay quiescent until she acknowledged it, and then with lessons learned from long and painful practice, she used it. She used that fear to get stellar grades in college; to apply to the FBI; to work late into the night when other, more senior agents had gone home; to accept Aaron Hotchner's request for help on a case and his eventual job offer. And although JJ was incredibly satisfied with her work and the role she played; even though she loved her team and considered them her family and her position within the Bureau was envied by many, and even though that old fear had subsided over the years, it was not banished completely. There were still times it snuck up and whispered darkly in her ear like a spurned lover.

Because as much as her friends, her _real _family loved her and appreciated her, there were still times when JJ felt that no one truly saw _her, _and that everyone – the detectives who came to her for help, the press who hounded her for questions, the team who relied on her to be their face and voice to the world - saw only what they wanted or needed to see, and no more.

Everyone that is, except Emily. Dark, elegant, confident Emily Prentiss, whose addition to the BAU should have been uncomfortable, but was instead, like so much the woman seemed to do, effortless. That first day, when Hotch had asked JJ to bring the new agent up to speed, a tiny spark of resentment had flared inside her before she could snuff it out with practiced professionalism. Still, JJ had been wary when she walked into that room with her old fear snapping at her heels. She had been prepared to have to fight for her position, to not be dismissed by this new person.

Her preparations had come to nothing. There had been eagerness and an almost painful earnestness in Emily's manner when they shook hands. JJ had looked at Emily - at eyes the color of polished black walnut - and felt her fear retreat, unfounded. There was neither judgment nor assumption in Emily's gaze and that simple acceptance had startled the blonde agent. Throughout that first briefing she kept looking for some indication that it was a lie, a tactic. It wasn't. And as time passed, JJ found herself seeking out that dark gaze more and more. When she was unsure, when a case was becoming too frustrating or painful, when she was tired, when she had no excuse whatsoever but just wanted to see Emily, and know that Emily saw her, she would look across a table, or a room, or over someone's shoulder and find the recognition and support she needed.

And then one day, not an extraordinary day, but merely a day as any other, JJ realized she was no longer looking at Emily because she needed to see herself. Without fanfare or event and apparently without a fight, her fear had been vanquished, leaving only a tattered memory to mark its existence. Somewhere along the way, JJ realized, she had started looking at Emily because she was looking for _other_ things in those dark eyes: things that made her breath catch and her heart speed up; things that had nothing to do with fear, and everything to do with another, more powerful emotion.

Fin


	2. Elements of Emotion: Belief

**Title: Elements of Emotion: Belief**

**Pairing: Emily/JJ Criminal Minds**

**Rating: G**

**Summary: Sequel to "Fear" JJ's thoughts on the evolution of her relationship with Emily.**

**A/N: I have no idea what JJ's real backstory is. I assume that at some point, she had two parents and I'm making up an uncle because it suits me. None of this is canon. **

* * *

**Belief **

Belief was perhaps the most fickle and complicated of the elemental forces that JJ had named. Of them all, it could be either the most fleeting, or the least shakable. The blonde agent had never been particularly religious. Growing up, she had seen the Bible too often in connection with her drunken uncle's hands and learned to be wary of both. She never doubted however, the power of Belief; be it in a deity, an idea, or one's self. The power of another's belief could be the most tremendous force and to rescind it could shatter the foundations of a person. In contrast, the absence of that belief could cut like glass shards within a person's soul. JJ bore living testament to that. Every time she went home, it was only to return with new wounds: tiny and unintended, but bleeding nonetheless. They would fade and scar, but they would never truly vanish.

But belief - subtle and intangible and occasionally terrible - was the foundation of hope; the greatest of all human emotions.

* * *

Once, when JJ was very young, a massive summer storm had knocked out the electricity to her small town. One of the worst to sweep the region in years, it struck with a fierceness that had seemed to the small girl trembling in her room to be personally directed at her. Unwilling to reveal her fear to her parents, JJ had curled on her bed, trying in vain to block out the sounds of the heavens splitting and the wind lashing the sides of her house. Rain had pelted the windows, seemingly furious at being shut out, and the walls suddenly appeared scant protection against the anger of the roaring monster outside.

As they inevitably do however, the storm _did _end, and when it was finally over, JJ had forced herself from her bed and looked outside. She still remembered the soft awe that struck her at the sight beyond her window. Where normally the lights from the mill and the town muddied the sky and robbed the stars of their place, that night the glittering diamonds had shone unsullied and lured a young girl out of her house. JJ remembered stepping off the porch and onto rain soaked grass. The aftertaste of the storm's power still hung in the air, but JJ no longer feared it. Darkness surrounded her gently; a darkness so complete that it seemed as if a velvet blanket had been draped over the world. Head tipped back and mouth left open, she lost herself in the sky, forgetting the storm, forgetting that her parents would be mad at her for sneaking out, forgetting even to breathe.

That night, a young JJ looked at the stars and her eyes feasted on their brilliance. Her breath was scant in her lungs but her heart had filled, bursting with some great emotion she couldn't - at that age - name or understand. Like some heavenly note had been struck inside her, JJ shivered, and in that moment, she was overcome with the desire to reach up and hold those stars in her hand. It didn't matter that she _knew _those twinkling diamonds were distant suns often long dead by the time their light reached Earth; for one fraction of one second, her heart overrode her mind, and in that tiny sliver of eternity, she _believed_ it possible.

The belief, of course, was fragile, and between one second and the next it shattered; a delicate glass bobble finally handled too roughly. As the shards fell away and JJ lowered her hand however, she felt no disappointment and the awe and wonder of that moment stayed with her: a tiny, treasured memory she held onto for years.

Like most memories from childhood however, painful or otherwise, it eventually began to fade. The colors of the stars bled away and the velvet darkness bleached and tattered. Until one night the team was working a case in Kansas, and the city was hit with a massive thunderstorm. As it raged, JJ stood at the window of her hotel room, the merest hint of a smile gracing her lips as she was drawn back to that storm of her childhood.

As if the memory were a cue, the lights in her hotel room flickered and died and JJ saw the stain of the city's light outside her window vanish as the darkness rushed in to fill its place. The blonde agent watched as the storm moved away, the flashes of lightning dying to nothing and the wind calming. The last drops of rain fell sullenly, abandoned by the clouds that were now moving steadily east, revealing a night sky washed clean and a sliver of moon in their wake.

The sight kindled in JJ a deep longing, and without hesitation she opened her door and stepped out into the warm, wet night. Closing her eyes the blonde agent drew a long breath, imagining she could still taste the storm on the air. Moving to the railing however, JJ discovered she wasn't alone. The frail, silvery light of the moon danced across Emily's face where the older woman stood with her hands resting on the iron railing, her head tipped back and her gaze fixed on the sky.

Despite the simplicity of the image, JJ found herself entranced. As if the moonlight was her guide, her eyes traced the elegant sweep of Emily's cheekbones and the long line of her throat, lingering on the gentle rise and fall of her chest before rising again to the dark agent's face.

Without conscious guide, JJ found herself being drawn forward. The desire to simply be near her colleague, her friend and the woman who was rapidly becoming more than either of those labels could encompass pulled her body into motion with a force as subtle and powerful as gravity.

Moving to the railing, she stood beside Emily, and when the brunette lowered her gaze to look at her, JJ imagined for just an instant, she could see the velvet night and the diamond stars reflected in those fathomless eyes. Perhaps it was something of the storm washing away the last of the dust that faded the colors of her memory, but as JJ looked at Emily looking back at her, she felt again the wonder and awe of the little girl who stood outside her childhood house and reached for the stars.

Emily did that, she realized. Emily made her feel like truly anything was possible and that the heavens were reachable; knowledge and distance and rationality transcended for one instant, by beautiful, fragile, belief.

It was in that moment of quiet clarity when JJ realized that, for some time, she hadn't needed to look up to the sky to feel that perfect moment of awe and belief. It had been right there in front of her. She felt it every time she looked at Emily: every time their hands brushed, or the dark woman slid her fingers along JJ's sleeve. It was there every time that smooth, rich voice changed pitch ever so subtly in the way that let JJ know the brunette's words were only for her. And most especially, it was there on those rare occasions JJ was treated to that brilliant smile; a smile seldom, if ever directed at anyone else.

For a moment neither woman moved; two figures seemingly frozen outside of time until some quiet accord was reached. Still holding her gaze, Emily slid her hand to cover JJ's where it rested on the cool, damp metal of the railing, drawing the blonde closer. No words were spoken as they turned their eyes back to the sky, and as the fragile moon climbed higher, Emily and JJ stood and simply watched the stars.

Fin


	3. Elements of Emotion: Trust

**Title: Elements of Emotion: Trust **

**Pairing: JJ/Emily Criminal Minds**

**Rating: G**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

**Spoilers: Tiny mention of "Revelations" and "Penelope" blink and you'll miss them. **

**Summary: JJ looks at the foundation and building of trust **

* * *

**Trust **

If Belief was the most unstable of the elements, then Trust, JJ had come to believe, was the rarest. Brittle and complicated, trust did not occur naturally. It had to be built; earned through a thousand moments both great and small. The soft touch, the shared look, the perfect word spoken into an empty silence that echoes in the memory, each reverberation striking a cord somewhere deep within a wary heart. Each of these left an imprint, a tiny trace of _something _that accumulated, like the dust from a butterfly's wings, until time and experience and knowledge somehow strengthened and cemented it into a connection; a bridge upon which something _more_ was created, something lasting and powerful and beautiful.

In retrospect, JJ realized it was unsurprising that she trusted Emily. Emily Prentiss was simply the kind of woman that it was safe to have faith in. Indeed, JJ had a hard time imagining the dark haired agent ever letting anyone down; such was her nature and the aura she so effortlessly projected. Time and time again, JJ watched as grieving families, victims, even criminals placed their trust in Emily. Each did so for different reasons - be it justice, solace or understanding - and each time they did, it added a little a little more to the burdens already weighing on those slender shoulders. And yet, as JJ had noted long ago, Emily Prentiss never flinched.

No, what JJ marveled at was the evidence of Emily's trust in _her_. For all her compassion and support and quiet empathy, Emily was not a woman to trust easily. There were moments that JJ imagined she could almost _see _the armor the darker woman had built for herself. It was shining and well kept, but heavily scarred and oft repaired. It was an armor of intellect and professionalism and iron control. It was an armor forged, JJ hypothesized, from years of Ambassador Prentiss' stern example and living in a world where a single wrong look, an unplanned smile or misinterpreted gesture could lead to disaster. It was an armor that protected a soul and a heart JJ had come to realize were more delicate than most would believe.

.JJ herself knew how hard it was to build trust, especially in their world. Their lives - their every day existence - were founded upon witnessing and understanding all the deeds that shattered trust, and indeed, lives.

It was for this very reason that the blonde agent almost missed it. Struggling not to lose herself amongst the deaths, the fears and the pain of those still alive, she almost missed those first, fragile moments; almost didn't hear those soft, weighted words; almost didn't see that the look in Emily's eyes had warmed, that some slight layer of steel had been pulled back to give JJ a glimpse of the soul shining tentatively behind mahogany irises.

The realization had shocked her at first and made her hesitate. Like a child held in rapture at the sight of a baby animal, it made her tremble if she thought about it too much. Even more so because JJ knew how much it cost the other woman; how rare and precious that trust truly was. The trust of an innocent was a powerful thing, but the trust of someone who carried the scars of betrayal and disappointment, rejection and the dozens of life's other tragedies was a humbling weight. There was a part of JJ that had momentarily balked at the thought of such a burden, afraid she was unworthy to carry it; afraid she might shatter that fragile gift.

Somehow though, while her head was arguing, the weight of that responsibility had been picked up - settling over her heart not as a hindrance, but with the familiar, comfortable heft of a down blanket or a favored winter coat, somehow protective and strengthening – and it had become a part of her.

It was that weight, that need to protect the tentative connection that had formed between them that led JJ to Emily's door that night.

* * *

Today had been the second time that Ambassador Prentiss made an appearance at the BAU. The first time, JJ hadn't yet been able to read the tiny, nearly invisible signs of distress in Emily. This morning however, when Emily's eyes met JJ's across the bullpen, the press liaison could see all too clearly the effect that the mother had on the daughter.

The Ambassador hadn't stayed long, but it was obvious that she had stayed long enough. Though JJ doubted the others noticed anything untoward, the blonde could see all too clearly the wound the other woman carried in the wake of the surprise visit.

A part of JJ had desperately wanted to reach out Emily, but was unsure of exactly how to do so. Their connection was too new, the trust still fragile enough that a wrong word or move could break it, and so JJ held herself back. Until now.

She still wasn't sure, but as her knuckles met the smooth, hard surface of Emily's door, JJ understood that whatever happened, her need to affirm Emily's trust in her dictated only one direction: forward.

The door swung open and the blonde agent caught surprise and the merest hint of pleasure that flickered across Emily's features before it was carefully schooled away, buried under the familiar mask of polite curiosity. JJ felt her own lips twitch; such was the predictability of the darker woman's reaction.

"JJ, I wasn't expecting you," which was Emily Prentiss for 'what the hell are you doing on my doorstep?' The press liaison could read that easily enough. For a moment however, she hesitated. The smooth, rich tones of Emily's voice held only confusion, not irritation at the interruption, but JJ was all too aware of the weight her next words might carry. Now came the moment on which all those following would rest. JJ knew this. She had known it the entire drive over here and for some time before that. She had known it standing in her too quiet apartment, imagining Emily doing the same thing and finding the idea unsettling.

What she said now would shape the structure of what was to come. The wrong word and their fragile trust might snap: the right and the possibilities were both unknown and wonderful. JJ had mulled over what to say at this moment, running through a dozen different scenarios. She had discarded them all, and now, standing here, noticing how the warm hall light gave depth and sparkle to Emily's eyes, she was glad.

Trust could only be built upon truth.

"I wanted to see how you were doing. I know it must be difficult to have your mother show up like that."

JJ could practically _see_ the decision being made in Emily's mind, and when the darker woman gave her a weak but genuine smile and stepped back, beckoning her in, the blonde agent knew she'd made the right choice.

* * *

"Apparently Grand Pierre left some things for me. His journals. Mother thought they should be donated to the university library of some friend of hers. I disagreed." The bitterness in Emily's voice was evident, but JJ stayed silent, sensing the time wasn't right for her to speak yet.

They were seated on Emily's couch, looking out over the lighted, marble and electric sculptures of the Capitol. At the moment however, both women were blind to the luminescent beauty in the distance. Emily's focus was turned inward, and JJ's was consumed by her.

Despite the blonde's earlier doubts, the atmosphere between them was comfortable, the slow tides of emotion and memory somehow tamed within the shared space. They sat close, though not touching. Emily's legs were curled beneath her where she had tucked herself into the corner of the leather sofa and JJ leaned against the plush back, her knee just inches from Emily's. A bottle of wine sat half full on the coffee table, and JJ absently swirled the liquid in her glass, a tiny, inner restlessness needing some small outlet. Emily's glass was empty and the brunette toyed with it, watching the last stain of deep red against the clear crystal like it might hold some hidden truth.

The silence stretched lazily for a moment before Emily spoke again, her voice and gaze far away. "It was so peaceful there." The words held so little strength that at first JJ had to strain to catch them, and even then she wasn't sure of the meaning.

"He never expected me to be anything but myself. I think… sometimes I think that those summers were the first time in my life someone loved me for who I really was."

As the words and the emotions behind them suddenly became clear, JJ felt something in her heart tear. A part of her ached for the pain of the young girl that Emily had been. Tthe young girl that she could easily imagine – so proper, so bent on trying to live up to her mother's unending expectations - and a part of her ached for the woman who still carried that pain.

Emily's voice trailed off and JJ watched the conflict play out in the shadows of the past that darkened her eyes. The blonde stayed silent as Emily struggled for control against the bittersweet memories, and although it pained her to see the older woman like this, a part of her marveled at the gift she was being given as Emily allowed her rare witness to her emotions.

In one tiny stretching of a second, JJ realized in the sudden, all encompassing way that the heart occasionally has when it finally manages to make itself heard, that she was being given a keystone. In her grasp lay a moment that, despite its apparent simplicity, held the strength to change the direction and shape of their relationship, for better or worse, from that instant on.

She could stand by, offering her silent support and maintaining the equilibrium they had built, or, as she had decided earlier that night while standing on the other side of Emily's door, she could move forward. JJ felt the choice; she saw the delicate scales balanced inside her mind and the options written clearly before her. They were inscribed in the polished mahogany of Emily's eyes and the wine stained red of her lips, in the rich tones of her voice and the brilliance of her smile, and in the thousands of other things JJ had come to love about the woman sitting in front of her.

Reaching out, she covered Emily's hand, grasping it gently and recalling a similar gesture given to her in the cold waiting room of a hospital. Then, as now, there were no words, but the bloom of surprise, gratitude and something richer and deeper on Emily's face said clearly they weren't needed.

"Thank you." Her voice was thick, and in those simple words, JJ felt something click into place between them. It was as fine as the dust from a butterfly's wings and like that shimmery powder, JJ knew it would remain long after the moment itself had flown.

"Tell me about your grandfather," she questioned softly.

Emily paused for a moment, obviously searching for a starting point. The blonde agent knew her companion had found it when those full lips stretched into a wistful smile.

"It took me months that first summer to realize he didn't have an agenda, that he didn't expect me to be perfect. I honestly had no idea what to do…"

Propping her cheek on her fist, JJ slowly stroked the skin of Emily's palm, taking pleasure in the tactile evidence of their connection. As she listened to the measured cadence of Emily's voice and felt the shared warmth of their entwined hands, JJ understood fleetingly that Trust, despite being the rarest of elements, was all the more beautiful for being so.

Fin


	4. Elements of Emotion: Want

**Title: Elements of Emotion: Want**

**Pairing: Emily/JJ Criminal Minds**

**Rating: R  
Disclaimer: Not mine**

**Summary: The final in the series, JJ's thoughts on the last element in her relationship with Emily**

**Thank you: To Fewthistle again, who not only inspired the muse with her incredible talent, but was instrumental in the choice regarding (ok flat out demanded) the outfits the two ladies wear. Gotta admit, the woman's got taste ;) **

* * *

**Want **

If Trust was the rarest and most precious of emotional elements, then Want, JJ held, was the most common, and often the cheapest. Want wasn't just common in occurrence, but in nature. The forms of want were many and varied; it came in a thousand different shades and purities, in an infinite variety of combinations and strengths.

Mostly, JJ saw want as small and harmless. It was evident in the familiar craving for chocolate at the end of the long day and the sluggish slapping of the snooze button just one more time on a cold morning. Want was the basis of a multitude of useless, insignificant choices – this sweater or that flavor of coffee – that people thought little about each day, even as they made them.

But want could also be petty and cruel, dirty and shameful. There were so many wants that were never shown the light of day. Instead they were buried, ignored, kept locked away in the dark, dingy places of hearts and covered over with the flaking spackle of civility and respectability. There were also wants that _should _never see the light of day, the kinds of wants that kept divorce attorneys and psychologists employed.

Want _could_ be pure, JJ believed. Like the transformation of carbon into diamonds by heat, time, and pressure, sometimes want - under precisely the correct circumstances - could be transformed into a thing of exquisite beauty and universal awe. Want could become passion and drive and love. The desire for freedom, the wish to better the lives of others, the need to help those in pain, the love of a parent for a child that leads them to sacrifice everything for that child's safety and the selfless love of one person for another; these forms of want were the most precious, and they drew others to admire them, to want them for themselves, and often, to fail.

Because ultimately the process - the evolution of want - was flawed. The material was either too weak or the precise conditions weren't met, or another element – usually fear – was introduced and the want lost its purity, becoming muddied and weak. The result being that, instead of diamonds, only black, dirty, clinging coal was produced.

There were times JJ imagined she could almost see the filthy dust of mutated want still lingering on the hands and souls and clouding the eyes of the Unsubs they caught.

JJ had known want all her life. She was after all, human. For the most part, her desires had always been simple and small: food, shelter, the love and respect of family and friends, career goals; things whose importance waxed and waned as she traveled her life's road. She had felt want for others before – though rarely – and always the want had been safe, fulfilling, careful, easily controllable and as like what she now felt for Emily as a candle is to a summer wildfire.

Thick, deep and consuming, JJ's desire for Emily was multihued and complex. Like the facets of a newly cut diamond, it glittered with a thousand tiny points of light and color. And like the most valuable of those gems in the hands of a master jeweler, each facet had been shaped slowly, not creating, but rather painstakingly revealing the radiance and light that lay already within.

Somehow, between the increasing warmth of the looks that passed between them and the pressure of their jobs; between time spent in heated pursuit of the darkest aspects of human nature and time shared in healing, restful moments in each other's quiet presence, JJ's feelings for Emily coalesced, transforming until they became achingly, blindingly clear to her. Jennifer Jareau wanted Emily Prentiss. Badly.

She didn't want Emily with just her mind, or even just her heart, she wanted her with every fiber of her being. It was as if desire was a code, stamped over and over in her DNA until every cell in her body became attuned to the darker woman's presence. So much so that simply being _near _Emily could ease something in her, no matter how dark the case or how tangled her emotions. Conversely, since the night in Emily's apartment - where they had spent hours doing nothing more than talking about their pasts, connected only by the casual touch of hands or the brush of cotton clad knees – JJ felt the absence of that presence with a keening, almost physical ache.

Never before had JJ experienced anything like this. That it was seemingly only growing stronger should have been a source of concern for her. She should have been afraid of the way her reactions to Emily were growing more instinctive and less rational, and yet…

And yet she couldn't seem to stop the almost giddy rush of pleasure that swept her at the thought of time spent in Emily's company. She couldn't change the unshakable belief in the things that seemed possible when Emily touched her, and she most certainly couldn't fathom shattering the trust that lay between them. Some days, it seemed to JJ as if she could actually feel the erosion of her will, each second wearing at the last vestiges of control and logic, at that last, sharp sliver of fear that said 'this is too good to be true,' until it fell away, blunted and harmless in the wake of overwhelming want.

_And tonight isn't going to help any. _

Tonight was the annual awards banquet for the Bureau. Tonight was supposed to be a night of gratification, a night of recognition and reward, a night to fulfill so many wants…all but the one Jennifer Jareau truly cared about. Because she knew, with absolute certainty, that seeing Emily tonight, in what her mind happily fantasized would be a dangerously beautiful dress; that sipping slightly flat champagne and making small talk; that being forced to look, but not touch the woman who had come to mean so much, was going to be the worst kind of agony.

It was going to be the kind of agony that can only come from being shown, but ultimately denied, what the heart truly desires.

Because JJ also knew, that for all their trust, for all that Emily made her feel things that ought to be forbidden, for all that she wanted to see those same feelings reflected back at her from dark eyes, the risk – the fear of shattering what lay between them – was too great. And this was one fear the agent didn't know how to overcome.

Still, when her hands removed her favorite outfit – the one with the white silk tuxedo shirt that she knew set off the honeyed tones in her skin so well, and with the long black skirt that hugged just tight enough and had a slit just high enough, to ride the line of propriety – from the closet without any apparent direction, she didn't resist.

* * *

The ceremony was (if possible), worse than she had imagined. It wasn't because her colleagues (not her 'family' in the BAU, but the other agents) were even more insipid, nor because the champagne was flatter (though that didn't stop her from having a second glass); it wasn't because the speeches seemed longer winded, or the eyes of people denied commendations seemed emptier; no, it was because of that damn dress.

Among the monochromatic black and white tuxedos and the washed out pale shades of most of the women's dresses, Emily stood out like a scarlet jay among the crows. The dress wasn't just red, it was _blood _red. Deep, rich, the color of life and passion and promise; it was strapless and partly backless, clinging to the darker woman's body in ways that set JJ's to flame and made it nearly impossible to concentrate on what was going on around her.

They were separated now by the crowds of people, but JJ kept catching glimpses of Emily; a smile here, a sliver of crimson silk there, and more than once, a look that seemed to make the distance between them insignificant. A look that had JJ looking for more champagne to wet a suddenly dry throat. A look that she would have given anything to understand completely.

How she got through the awards she was never quite sure, but the next thing the blonde was truly aware of was having her internal debate about whether leaving now was a strategic retreat or cowardice, interrupted by Emily's sudden appearance at her side.

They stood just apart from the main crowds in a small bit of quieter space near the exit, meaning JJ had no one to turn to for a distraction.

Unsure of herself, with her emotions and body so off balance and the slight heat of the alcohol not helping any, JJ found herself at a loss for words. She felt like a damn teenager, and was just working her way toward indignation at the fact when Emily spoke.

"You look beautiful tonight." Her voice was soft and the timbre wound its way not just to JJ's ears, but down her spine.

Normally the blonde agent would have smiled, laughed even, shrugging away the words like one might be rid a dusting of snow, but something in the low richness of Emily's voice and the darkness of her eyes stopped JJ's automatic reaction, stilling the words in her throat so that what came out was far different.

"So do you," JJ could have cursed at the rawness of her voice, except that right then, because she was looking for it, she saw what she had only counted on dreaming about. She saw desire on Emily's face.

"You know," the darker woman said carefully, as if testing unknown waters. "I have _much _better champagne back at my apartment. What do you say we ditch this place?"

JJ found herself nodding at what, under other circumstances could have been interpreted as a simple reprieve from a boring party offered by one friend to another, but somehow, with the weight of want behind it, became so much more.

* * *

To her credit JJ would muse later, Emily _did _have good champagne. They even opened it when they arrived.

Standing at the massive panes of glass that overlooked the Capitol, the younger agent heard the soft pop of the cork and the rush of liquid into crystal. She very deliberately kept her gaze forward, but that didn't stop her focus from straying to the reflection of Emily that overlaid the lights of the city.

Champagne flutes in hand, that reflection approached until the real woman was standing next to JJ, flesh and blood and scent so much better than the picture in the cold glass.

Emily handed JJ one of the glasses, their fingers brushing in the process and the blonde felt herself swallow at the sensation that shot through her nerves. They were rapidly approaching a precipice; the pivotal point that occurs in all moments like these where the decision had to be made: go forward, or turn away.

She watched Emily raise the clear golden liquid to her lips, and it was a catalyst. JJ wanted to feel those lips herself. She wanted to taste Emily, to run her own lips across the delicate skin of her throat and feel the pulse of the darker woman's heartbeat there. She wanted to hear Emily, to learn what things made her cry out and know the sound of her voice in passion. Most clearly though, she wanted to touch Emily, to strip away the practiced mask of the older agent's control and see the woman beneath once and for all; not just in small glimpses or infrequent unguarded moments, but in complete surrender and freedom.

And while she was thinking about all the things she wanted, Emily put down her glass, removed JJ's from her unresisting grasp and stepped close. JJ could feel the heat of the other woman, like a fine current just at the edge of her perception. Her eyes fluttered at the delicate scent Emily wore and the sheer weight of desire that washed through her.

Held willing prisoner by the moment, she almost refused when she felt warm hands cup her cheeks and a throaty voice plead,

"JJ, open your eyes,"

It was only with a great deal of effort that she found she could comply.

Emily looked for an instant on the verge of speaking, but something had snapped inside JJ when she saw in Emily's eyes her own want, reflected perfectly back to her.

Sliding her hands around silk covered curves, JJ pulled the darker woman closer and kissed her.

It was intended as a gentle kiss; a testing and a reaffirmation and a promise of more to come. It was all those things, and much, much more.

So long had she wanted Emily; such was the nature and measure of that want, that the desire became almost a living thing between them. JJ's mouth opened and Emily immediately responded. Their tongues tangled, exploring and tasting as hands echoed their motions, seeking to know every inch of the other. JJ reveled in the taste of champagne on Emily's lips and the satin heat of the skin of her back. Emily's hands slid from her cheeks, down her throat and over her back, one of them moaning at the feeling of their bodies pressing against each other.

As they pulled apart, some last, tiny voice in JJ screamed that they should slow down; that it shouldn't be this way, but then Emily slipped her hands under the blonde's shirt, caressing sensitive skin and kissed her again and that voice died a much celebrated death.

It wasn't just JJ's skin that was burning; it was as if every cell in her body hummed at Emily's touch, singing in perfect harmony to an ancient, powerful note struck long ago. Her lungs couldn't seem to get enough air, but breathing no longer seemed much of a priority. All she knew, all she _wanted _to know, was the feeling of Emily against her; in her.

The stairs were the only thing that made them part and then they were standing in Emily's bedroom. Forcing herself to slow, JJ's hands trembled as she undid the zipper on the brunette's dress, a tremor she noticed Emily shared as long fingers fumbled slightly with the buttons on her blouse.

There were no words as they reached for each other; there didn't need to be. What they felt for each was evident in each whisper of lips and tongues across heated skin, in the stroke of hands and the tiny sounds of pleasure and need and discovery. It was proved when Emily arched into JJ's mouth as the blonde alternately teased and sucked her nipples, and in the way JJ willingly opened to Emily's touch, giving welcome and encouragement as she slid into slick, heated flesh. It was affirmed as JJ cried out, her body tightening around Emily's fingers. It was cemented by the taste of Emily on JJ's lips as the blonde kissed the spent woman.

Later, long after the last desperate cry had been torn from behind passion bruised lips, with the night readying itself to give way to a new day, the two women lay entwined, only the differing shades of their skin – honeyed to alabaster – giving away where one ended and the other began. JJ's head rested on Emily's shoulder, listening to the soft breathing of her lover.

_Her lover, _the phrase stretched like a lazy cat in her heart, causing it to swell. She had no idea what tomorrow was going to bring. There would most likely be talk about their jobs, about the team, about all the things that could keep them apart. In her imagination though, JJ saw only the shining diamond that her want for Emily had become. Overcoming Fear and strengthened by her own Belief and their Trust, against all odds, JJ knew that her Want for Emily had been transformed into love. That the words hadn't been spoken yet was immaterial; they had spent all night saying everything that mattered.

As JJ closed her eyes and felt herself surrendering to sleep, somewhere in the back of her mind, the small girl she had been, smiled in satisfaction.

Fin

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End file.
